


Liebesträume

by Ljósfari (Ljosfari)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8895829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljosfari/pseuds/Lj%C3%B3sfari
Summary: “A request for the pianist: Liebestraum No. 3 in A Flat Major”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jeboboid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeboboid/gifts).



> 100% high fructose fluff syrup. 
> 
> Written for the Lovebirds Discord 2016 Secret Santa.
> 
> Based on [this tumblr post](http://actualmodel.tumblr.com/post/126244502008/one-of-my-neighbours-slipped-this-under-my-door).

1.

 

The last notes of _Leyenda_ fade in the air as Fareeha breathes out, sitting up straight on the piano bench. She stands up, stretching her arms and back, and goes to the kitchenette in the Watchpoint break room to help herself to some water.

On her way back to the electronic piano, glass of water in hand, she spies a folded piece of paper on the ground next to the closed door. Frowning, she picks it up. She has been playing without her usual headphones, as their wire snapped during her morning run, and she hopes she hasn’t disturbed anyone with her music.

Fortunately, it’s not a complaint. The note, written in an almost illegible scrawl, reads “A request for the pianist: Liebestraum No. 3 in A Flat Major”

Smiling, Fareeha accommodates the request. Her strong hands are gentle on the keys as she plays, all of her soul focused on the music, and until she finishes there’s no one else in the world but Fareeha and her piano. Her heart races as she plays, her brow furrowed in concentration.

When the piece ends, someone claps from downstairs.

 

2.

 

“You know you should come to me as soon as you’re injured, Captain Amari.” Angela chides her, looking at her from behind her clipboard as Fareeha puts her T-shirt back on. “Today it’s just a muscle cramp, but you could have saved yourself a lot of pain and trouble.”

“Honestly, Doctor, it’s nothing. It will fade away in no time.”

“You soldiers,” Angela sighs, “always playing tough and stoic. Why do I even bother?” She flops onto her chair and scrawls something on a piece of paper. “You know, next time you’re shot at, don’t come to me. If you’re so badass, pull the bullet out yourself.”

Fareeha laughs, raising her hands in defeat as Angela snorts and shakes her head with fond exasperation.

“All right, Doctor Ziegler. Next time I’ll be a good sport and come to you no matter how small my injury is.” She sits in front of the doctor, grinning, and pitches her voice up to plead melodramatically, “Please patch this papercut up, Doctor! My insides are spilling out of this grievous wound!”

Angela laughs and hands Fareeha her prescription. “There you go. Do remember these are muscle relaxants, so you’re going to feel drowsy and less coordinated as long as you’re taking these. There’s a pharmacist in Gibraltar loyal to Overwatch, she’s not gonna snitch on us when you go fill your prescription.” She smiles and pats Fareeha’s hand. Fareeha bites her lip at the contact and averts her gaze, bashful. “I’ve written down her address, too.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Can I call you Angela?”

 _It’s just banter_ , Fareeha repeats to herself over and over again. Just for laughs. They may be doctor and patient but they’re also friends. She doesn’t have a crush on a certain blonde physician. _At all_.

And she’s _not_ blushing like a smitten teenager _at all_ when Angela answers, “Only if I can call you Fareeha, Captain Amari.”

When they part, Fareeha looks at her prescription again, and her face brightens as she realises something about the chicken scratch that passes for Angela’s handwriting looks familiar. Her lowercase just an undecipherable twisting line, that way she writes her uppercase As…

Fareeha grins like a fool and clutches the prescription to her chest.

 

3.

 

Fareeha has taken to playing the piano without her headphones on. So far she hasn’t received a single complaint - in fact, Reinhardt has complimented her and asked her to play more frequently. Lúcio has even invited her to jam with him, and she has taken him up on the offer.

And Angela still slides requests under her door.

She has a fondness for Liszt, Mahler and Rachmaninoff, Fareeha learns. So she studies their piano pieces thoroughly, eager to please the doctor. It’s good practise, too, and Fareeha is delighted to have such an appreciative audience.

Sometimes, she can hear Angela singing from the med bay.

The first time Fareeha hears her, Angela has asked for Mahler’s _Scheiden und Meiden_. The break room window is open, and the wind carries Angela’s voice from the med bay downstairs.

_Es ritten drei Reiter zum Tor hinaus, Ade!_

_Feins Liebchen schaute zum Fenster hinaus, Ade!_

And oh, she has such a pretty voice. Untrained, yes, she’s not a virtuosa at all. She struggles with high notes and ornaments, but the overall result is beautiful, harmonious as her voice blends with Fareeha’s piano. Fareeha claps for Angela when the piece ends, and she hears clapping from the med bay too.

Since then, she plays lieder when she knows Angela is around, only to hear the sound of her voice.

 

4.

 

It’s been two years since Fareeha answered the Recall, and a year and two months since Angela and her started dating.

They don’t have much free time - fighting terrorists while flying under the UN’s radar is hard work, after all - so they take advantage of any opportunities to spend quality time together. Holed up in Gibraltar as they are, this usually means playing chess or any of the board games stored in the Watchpoint break room (Fareeha is a master of Agricola, while Angela is partial to Carcassonne), going for walks around the Watchpoint, or reading together. Some evenings, the other’s presence is enough for them.

Angela likes to sit at Fareeha’s feet, curled up in a blanket, and read while Fareeha plays the piano. She rests her head on Fareeha’s thigh and reads in silence, and for a while, the rest of the world ceases to exist. No Overwatch, no Talon goons close on their heels, no dangers lurking at the corner. Just the two of them, their companionable silence, light reading and Fareeha’s music.

This is one of those evenings. It’s raining and thundering outside, a January storm washing over the Rock, and they’re alone in the break room. The wind rattles against the windows, cold creeping from the poorly insulated frames. An oil heater keeps the room warm, and Angela sits on a pile of pillows, wrapped in a light blue blanket, reading the news on her tablet next to the piano bench.

Fareeha is playing Chopin’s Étude Op. 25, No. 1 in A-flat major, on a slower tempo, getting increasingly frustrated by it. Angela sets her tablet aside and peers at Fareeha as she plays,  her eyes stopping at Fareeha’s frown and the way she bites her lower lip in concentration. She admires her strong, calloused hands, how they fly over the keys, how she treats the instrument with such tenderness.

It’s a side of her not many have been witness to. Fareeha usually shows her tough-as-nails, stoic persona when on duty, interacting with the new recruits and the old guard. She doesn’t remove that mask even off-duty, if the soldiers are around. Angela doesn’t mind: she feels honored for knowing these inner depths, knowing how sensitive and gentle can Fareeha be. And a part of her likes having this side of Fareeha all for herself.

The melody shifts to a familiar piece for Angela: Liebestraum No. 3 in A-flat major. Smiling, she closes her eyes and settles her head over Fareeha’s thigh, listening intently. Fareeha laughs when she feels the weight of Angela’s head over her thigh, and makes no move to push her aside.

When the piece ends, Fareeha’s hands roam to Angela’s hair, combing her fringe out of her face.

“You know, Fareeha,” Angela says, “This is my favourite piece in the world.”

Fareeha says nothing, only smiles and shifts to allow Angela more comfort as she keeps playing with her hair.

Angela continues, “When you started out in Overwatch, I was looking forward to hearing you practise since I heard you playing for the first time from the med bay. It felt like I was sharing an intimate moment with you.” She bites her lip and snorts, self-conscious. “I guess I had a crush back then, childish at it sounds, but I didn’t want to act on it. It would be unprofessional.” Her fingers run down the outer seam of Fareeha’s jeans. “One day, on a whim, I slid you a note asking for you to play it, and you went and actually did it!” Angela laughs. “I was so happy you did it, but I was jealous too. You played with such sentiment, as if you were playing for a loved someone, and I wanted to be that person.”

Fareeha laughs and Angela looks up, pouting. “What are you laughing at?”

“Sorry, _habibti_ , I wasn’t laughing at you.” Fareeha stifles her laughter behind her hand. “It’s just, well, I knew for a long time it was you. You have a _unique_ handwriting, you know. To put it mildly.” Angela frowns in mock indignation and playfully slaps her on the thigh, but she giggles and Fareeha laughs with her. “It was a bit like these moments, don’t you think? Even before we were dating.”

“Yeah, exactly. It helped me gather my courage and tell you I love you, too.” Angela raises her head, hands resting over Fareeha’s knees. “You deduced by my requests that I loved Mahler, Rachmaninoff and Liszt, and you started playing them more, or at least I wanted to think that. I wanted to believe you were doing that for me, that maybe I had a chance.”

“I did,” Fareeha admits, “as soon as I deduced that. And I started playing more lieder when I learnt that you sing.”

Angela blushes and buries her face in her hands. “Goodness! You could hear me?”

Fareeha nods and takes Angela’s hands, laughing softly. “I thought you knew that.”

“I guess you were the one clapping, then.” Angela lowers her head and smiles. “I thought someone else was listening to you, and they were the one clapping.”

“Why wouldn’t I clap for you? You have a beautiful voice.”

“Oh, please.” Angela laughs.

“You _do_ , Angela. And I loved to hear you sing from the med bay.” Pensive, Fareeha rubs Angela’s palms with her thumbs, feeling her soft skin under her own rough calluses. After a pause, she says: “Wanna sing with me?”

“What, right now?”

Fareeha nods and Angela stands up, kissing Fareeha on the bridge of her nose. Fareeha pulls her for a proper kiss and Angela acquiesces, laughing on Fareeha’s lips as their noses clumsily clash.

“Yeah, of course, _Schätzli_.” Angela answers after distancing herself from Fareeha. “Just let me get some water, warm up a bit maybe, and I’m good to go.”

Fareeha turns over her stool and watches Angela as she steps towards the kitchenette, her blanket over her shoulders as if it was a cape and she was a queen in her palace. Her heart swells as she eyes Angela, overwhelmed with love for a moment.

She faces the piano again and rummages on her scores, looking for something that Angela might like.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [freestylesmiles](http://freestylesmiles.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing. If this is readable, it's thanks to her. (Go check out her writing if you haven't)
> 
> I don’t know the slightest thing about classical music or medicine. Everything presented on here (be it right or wrong) comes from a Wikipedia binge. 
> 
> Pieces referenced in this fic:  
> [Isaac Albéniz - Asturias (Leyenda)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-P8BQVhOv5A)  
>   
> [Franz Liszt - Liebestraum No. 3 in A-flat major](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsxDH4HcOWA)  
>   
> [Gustav Mahler - Scheiden und Meiden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sweAZ7HgmQ)  
>   
> [Frédéric Chopin - Étude Op. 25, No. 1 in A-flat major](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZzMCf29eqw)  
> 


End file.
